


Sans Laugh Track

by RaiofSunshine



Series: StaticMoth Week [5]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Headcanon, Implied Slurs, Implied/Referenced Racism, M/M, Nightmares, Nothing explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25438255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaiofSunshine/pseuds/RaiofSunshine
Summary: We interrupt this broadcast to bring you something painfully real. Viewer discretion is advised.
Relationships: Valentino/Vox (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: StaticMoth Week [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836049
Comments: 2
Kudos: 85





	Sans Laugh Track

**Author's Note:**

> ~Day 5: Bed Time~
> 
> (The experiences of this Vox/Valentino are based on my personal headcanons, not canon information for when they were humans)

A fork-scraping-plate beep harshly dragged him back to consciousness, Valentino sitting upright in a panic as he looked to the other side of the bed. Vox writhed uncomfortably, tangling his legs in the blankets as he gave off the awful noise. The screen of his face was lit up, dim enough to indicate he wasn't awake, but the subtle brightness letting the moth know his mind was racing with activity as he slept.

Valentino's initial worry scrunched and folded in on itself tightly, the television screen bleeding words into view from the other demon's subconscious. Ugly slurs and hateful taunts, coated in layers of ignorance. They weren't the verbal knives that had cut into himself once-upon-a-life, but the intention to wound wasn't unfamiliar.

Cautiously, the pimp scooted closer to Vox's fitful frame. He knew how aggressive one could react when a nightmare was interrupted, fight-or-flight easily triggered by the chaotic state of mind. This wasn't the first time, and he expected it to not be the last.

In a low voice, he crooned soothingly, trying to mollify the sleeping sinner's anxiety, "Ignore them, Vox. They didn't understand, so they chose to hate instead of learn...ya didn't do anythin' wrong. Ya didn't deserve it." He could feel his heart squeezing poignantly, the emotion grabbing hold of the organ with a crushing grip. How many times had his mamí told him something similar as a child? 

Snippets of his time topside flashed across his consciousness, searing with packed away heartache. Coming home from school, crying and covered in evidence of fights. Vile words, that had reluctantly become synonymous with his own name, carved places in his memory that faded but forever scarred.

He and Vox grew up in different times, but bigotry never grew old, only rebranded in different packages and sold to the masses for consumption. Slap a label on a skin color, something the uneducated can repeat and wield as easy as torch and pitchforks. Who needed love and acceptance, when abhorrence could give you an undeserved sense of superiority?

His reassurances appeared to be effective this time, the shrill beep of the nightmare waned, its volume easing down steadily to a deep hum. The media overlord's figure settled shortly after, no longer trying to twist him up in the same manner as his thoughts. Valentino breathed in deeply, relief easing over his expression.

Inching across the bed, he snuggled up to Vox, who instinctively moved his arms to pull the taller sinner against him. Their pieces fit together perfectly from years of practice, limbs anchoring to each other. The hype man shifted, flat face coming to rest on the chest of his lover.

In the dark, Valentino heard the soft whir of Vox's voice as he whispered, voice muffled by skin. "Thanks, babe…"

The unclarified gratitude made his mouth thin, somber yet sympathetic. Even in death, some pain never truly dissipated. "Anytime, _papito_."


End file.
